


It's Nothing Personal

by boy_boy_doggins



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: hitmen kill ppl you know, sorry dude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 11:28:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4477553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boy_boy_doggins/pseuds/boy_boy_doggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A spin off of sorts of the fic "Bang! Now We're Even" by Authoress</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Nothing Personal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Authoress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authoress/gifts).
  * Inspired by [bang! now we're even](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2835227) by [Authoress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authoress/pseuds/Authoress). 



It should be an uneventful mission, all in all.

His mark is a rambunctious young man, remarkably easy to find because of his bright orange hair. The man’s youthful features and tiny frame make Akaashi a bit uncomfortable- he doesn’t kill kids. Still, the man is just that- a man, just turned twenty one years old- so Akaashi brushes aside any residual discomfort. His profession doesn’t allow for sentimentality, especially for marks.

Despite the marks high visibility, the mission isn’t exactly easy. The mark just won’t stand _still_. His brilliant orange hair taunts Akaashi, so easy to see and yet so hard to get a clear shot. The orange is bobbing every which way, never still for a second. The man seems unrestricted by his formal suit. It fits his slim body well, clearly comfortable and made of exorbitantly expensive material. He wears his wealth like a second skin, a mark of those born rich. He’s flitting about amongst his various staff members, chatting amiably while he waits for his jet. Occasionally he stills, slightly, when he’s talking to his bodyguard- apparently the only one. The body guard is good at his job, Akaashi can tell. He’s not unnecessarily tense, but has a visible air of vigilance. He’s young, almost as young as the mark, but he looks older due to the permanent scowl on his face, which seems to only deepen when the mark is bothering him.

When the mark is close to his bodyguard, he slows, just enough to tempt Akaashi, just enough to get him to lightly press the trigger, almost enough to make the shot- and then the mark is bounding away again, grinning, and the bodyguard is scowling.

Akashi has been focusing and re-focusing the shot for the past fifteen minutes, and it’s getting annoying.

His mike crackles to life, and he can hear Konoha on the line. “What’s wrong, Akaashi?” he asks, concerned. “This shouldn’t be taking so long.”

Akaashi grimaces. “The mark won’t sit still. I’m not going to risk missing.” It’s especially annoying, because he had considered trying the assassination from a closer range, but instead opted for the safer distance of several hundred feet, trusting in his own aim.

“The jet is going to be here in five minutes,” Konoha says, the first note of anxiety seeping into his voice. Akaashi grits his teeth. This is honestly embarrassing- he took this mission as a break to let his hand heal. He could have left it as a practice for agents-in-training, and now there is a definite possibility that he is going to fail it.

Akaashi comforts himself with the knowledge that Owl Eyes isn’t here to witness his possible failure firsthand, although he’s certain to hear about it later.

And then he see’s it. Or he thinks he sees it? A flash white and gold in his peripheral vision, and he fights the urge to wrench his gaze from the scope. He doesn’t _know_ that it’s Owl Eyes. Akaashi’s been thinking about him too much lately. This isn’t the first time he’s seen that flash of white and gold, piercing gold, and he’s looked around frantically and seen nothing. He can’t let this compromise him. He can’t afford to doubt reality, or doubt his own intuition. This uncertainty just makes him angrier at Owl Eyes, that he has such an influence. Akashi should _not_ give this much of a fuck.

Despite his better knowledge, Akaashi finds himself tensing slightly, and this stiffness makes it even harder for him to take the damn shot. He glares down at the tiny orange target, imagines Owl Eyes’ face, and adds imperceptible pressure to the trigger.

He growls in disgust at his own weakness. This is pathetic.

“One and a half minutes,” Konoha warns, sounding anxious. He had trusted Akaashi to be able to fulfill this simplest of missions, and now it looks like he’s about to fail.

“I understand,” Akaashi mutters, silently fuming. He is never going live this down.

And then, with fifteen seconds to spare, Akaashi sees his opening. He can hear the jet, he knows it’s about to land and the mark will be whisked away- but suddenly the mark is standing still, or relatively still, looking intently at his body guard, and he’s smiling softly, so softly, and the body guard is looking at him, and he’s not even scowling. And Akaashi pulls the trigger.

The bodyguard immediately jumps into action, lunging for the mark. Some intuition must have warned him, but he’s too late. No one can move faster than a bullet.

It’s a clean shot, right through the side of the head. The mark is dead before he hits the ground.

Akaashi is caught up in the adrenaline of escape, but over it all he can hear a faint screaming drifting over the asphalt. Akashi looks, allowing himself some brief curiosity, and sees a gathering of panicked shapes out on the airfield. Still, the bright orange is visible, and someone- probably the bodyguard- is twisted over the body, and even from here Akaashi can read the anguish in his form.

Akashi doesn't feel guilt. He never feels guilt. But he doesn’t feel any great sense of accomplishment, either.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Authoress for letting me post this, I really admire you as an author! (sorry i know your fic is really old but i just really wanted to write this, so thankyou :D


End file.
